


Hello Again

by LittleMissPixieStix



Category: Team Fortress 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-05 08:27:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4172871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMissPixieStix/pseuds/LittleMissPixieStix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just because Medic's been with the Classic team, it doesn't mean that he's just wasting time.  He's been pulling some strings and creating discord among the group.  After seeing the Aussie get shot, and wanting to treat the man's wounds before he dies, Medic pulls a few more.</p>
<p>AKA I wanted to write something about the teaser panel before the new TF2 comic came out, pulling from (what I hope are) Medic’s thoughts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hello Again

**Author's Note:**

> Fic originally posted here: http://littlemissfemscout.tumblr.com/post/122008085412/hello-again

“Zhis is a strange sense of deja vu, is it not, Herr?” The German asked, “A different time, a different place…und very different circumstances.”

Medic calmly looked down at the Sniper.  The Aussie was currently laying on a table, the dark room around them poorly illuminated by one makeshift light.  

The medigun was suspended, hanging near the two men, but the beam had yet to be turned on.  Before Medic did, he wanted to make sure that all of the bullets had been removed and that the other man was somewhat stable.

Or at least as stable as he could be, considering that he had been shot twice in the torso.

But getting shot in the torso was better than a headshot.  That location had kept the Sniper alive this long, and it had also helped the doctor out.  He had managed to turn that bloody, possibly deadly, wound into an advantage for his team.  

His  _real_ team.

When the older mercs and the Medic had pinned the Medic’s former team mates, the plan had been to just capture them, keep them alive, and only use force if necessary.  Apparently the older Sniper had missed that memo.  Or the man had overheard how Medic had been trying to convince the leader, the Classic Heavy, that adding in newer, more able, bodies would be beneficial to the team.

When he had heard that the Classic team had located his team mates, it was all that he could think to do, to say.  It was the best reason he could think of to try to talk the men out of mowing down his unprepared team the minute that the found them.  

By saying that it may be possible to add, or force, his team mates on to this crew, he had helped try to keep them alive all that longer.

Whether the older Sniper had acted out of jealousy or his shot was caused by the slip of a finger, it didn’t matter.  The minute that Medic saw the Aussie go down, he started trying to come up with a way to use that to his, and his team’s, advantage.  Though there was malicious grin on his face, his mind was going into overdrive.

While the other men had been herding his team mates onto the ship, he had taken the Classic Heavy out of earshot of the others to talk with him.  

It was then that he began using the Classics’ actions and mindset against themselves.

He told the Classic that the old sniper wasn’t reliable, having fired a shot after receiving orders not to.  It was possible that the man that they were counting on to have their backs might end up shooting them instead, and the Classics couldn’t have that.  A Sniper was to make their shots count, and the man must have either misfired or intentionally disrespected the Heavy’s orders, and neither was good for the team.

Medic knew that the Heavy was a prideful man.  The thought that one of his subordinates having callously disregarded his orders made the man’s face turn red in anger.  Disobeying orders was worse than having an accidentally slip of the finger.  

However, to the Classic Heavy, neither action was forgivable.  

Having created a crack between the two men, a deep trench filled only with anger, Medic quickly moved onto the second part of his newly-hatched plan: trying to keep the Sniper alive.

With some more slick words being sent the Heavy’s way, the Medic was able to convince him that the Sniper would be willing to betray his team, just like the German had.  The man was a loner, only looking out for himself.  Given the choice of suffering with his team mates, or the chance to begin anew with the Classic’s, the man would be a much more trustworthy replacement for the aging, unreliable Sniper that the Classic’s had.  

His longevity was much better too, assuming that Medic was allowed to treat his injuries soon before he died.

Whether or not the Aussie would actually agree to joining the Classic’s, Medic didn’t know.  But he had to keep the man alive somehow.  If this lie was the one that would cast a large enough net to catch him, then so be it.

The others were taken somewhere else.  Medic had suggested that they hold the team, wearing them down before any sort of action was taken to probe them for information, or just eliminate them as a threat.  The Classic’s would receive no benefit from acting rashly, he had reminded them, one caught more flies with honey after all.  It was best to keep the mercs until they had no use for them, or until the chance of cooperation was absolutely nil.  

Luckily, the Classic Heavy seemed to have agreed, craving information and power more than he did blood for the moment.

Now with the lives of his team mates hopefully secured, he had arranged to have Sniper brought immediately down to the cargo hold, where the makeshift medibay had been hastily set up by the German.

Was it the best?  No.  

Was it the cleanest?   Certainly not.  

Would it have to do?  

Yes.

He had managed to remain calm, stone-faced, until the Classic team member had left.  After that door shut, he quickly set to work.  The Sniper was losing blood fast, having already drifted off into unconsciousness, Medic needed to get those bullets out and those wounds sewn up.

If he sealed up the sniper bullets into the Aussie, then there was a chance that they would explode later, destroying the lanky man from the inside out with no chance to save him.  The Medic need to be through with his removal, and he needed to do it quickly.

Medic didn’t have all of the tools that he needed, but he managed to make-do, as he had many times before.  As long as the bullets were removed quickly, then it would be possible to save him.  

It was bloody, messy, depressing, but it was finished.  The task was done, the bullets were out.  Now the healing could actually begin.

With a flick of a switch, the familiar hum of the medigun started up and the red beam started to glow.  As the ray touched the Sniper, his wounds started to heal themselves up, the skin moving to connect and stop the blood flowing out from his torso.

Even after the Sniper was healed completely, Medic let him stay under the beam a minute longer.  The Aussie certainly looked like he could use it.  

The normally tan man was as pale as death, and if it weren’t for his chest rising and falling as he breathed, the Medic would’ve attempted to resuscitate him.  But, for now, he would just let the man sleep.

The Medic looked down at the Aussie, surveying his work, and pulled his gloves off.  He remained silent for a moment, listening to the Aussie breathing, and then finally spoke for the first time since the two men had been alone.

“You never trusted me, Herr Sniper.  Not completely.  Not like the others did.”

Medic trailed his fingers up the man, making sure that the skin had completely sewn itself back together, and wasn’t going to pull back apart.

“Perhaps that mistrust was well placed,” Medic paused as he pulled the blanket back over the Aussie, “Or perhaps you just never trusted anyone?”

 He felt Sniper’s body tense underneath his hand, a sign that the man was waking up.  The pain was probably coursing through him, and if it wasn’t, it would be soon.  The Classic’s had refused to let Medic administer any pain medication until the Aussie was completely on their side, almost as if they were hoping that pain would be successful bargaining chip.

Medic however, had slipped a pill into his pocket for the Aussie.  Truth be told, it was probably more to spite the Classic’s than it was to help the Sniper, but both were definitely positives for this action.  The Classic’s had hired Medic for a reason, his medical expertise, and they needed to let him do his job as he saw fit.

Hearing a groan of pain from the Sniper, the Medic slipped an arm under his up back and lifted the Sniper up some.  He slipped the pill into the back of the man’s mouth, poured some water into his mouth, and gently rubbed his throat until he triggered a swallowing reflex.  

Though it was have been easier to give the man the pill while he was awake, doing so now would help stave off the massive wave of pain when he awoke, hopefully turning it into something slightly more manageable until it wore off.

Now he waited, unwilling to leave the Aussie’s side until the man awoke, despite how much he wanted to go see the rest of his team.  The minute that he left, the Classic’s would take him and situate him somewhere far less pleasant, even if he were still unconscious.  This was the most that he could do for his team right now, and he was going to do it.

Speaking of the others, he hadn’t seen Heavy.  Had the man refused to rejoin the team?  Was he still alive?  Russia was a harsh place to live, but Misha had grown up there, he should be fine, right?

Also, Medic hadn’t heard Scout.  Boston was also not the nicest place from what he had heard, but surely the boy knew how to handle himself.  He was a mercenary, after all.

But Scout wasn’t as important.  Slightly important, yes, he was concerned for the boy, but not as much as he was wondering about Heavy.

Where were the two of them?

Hopefully somewhere better than here, than this hellhole.  

Hopefully they were safe.

There was a movement, a rustling sound from the bed as the Sniper started to shift.  It seemed as if he was finally starting to wake up, albeit slowly, but that was to be expected.  The man had been minutes from death, it was no surprise that it was taking him a moment to open his eyes.

And open his eyes, he finally did.  He looked groggily around the room, having yet to focus on anything.  The massive blood loss might have something to do with this slowness. 

Technically, after all that had transpired, the man should not be awake yet.

He really was a fighter.  All of Medic’s team, his  _real_ team, was.  That’s why he knew that they were going to win, even despite the disadvantages, they had to.

The only other outcome was death, and that was something that the team had cheated many times over the years, with the Medic’s help.  And he was going to help them cheat it yet again, as many times as he could.

“Ah, you finally awoken, Herr,” Medic said, attracting the man’s attention.  Sniper’s brow furrowed as he looked up at Medic, but any attempt he made to sit upright was stopped by a firm hand on his chest.  The last thing Medic needed was for the man to tear something open, more blood loss would not be good.

“…Hello again, Sniper,” Medic said, an unreadable smile on his face as he looked down at his team mate, “Und velcome back.”


End file.
